CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

BLUE BIRD

Blue Bird could wait no longer. Something bad had happened to Wild Horse. She had to find him.

His tracks were easy to follow, hollows in the deep snow. Blue Bird could see them stretching out before her, tried to step into them, but his strides were longer than hers. She bounced from hollow to hollow – it helped keep her warm. He’d gone a long way; the craggy crevice that concealed their shelter was left behind.

Even though the sun was dipping behind the hills, darkness would not be allowed to fall; it was under the shimmering spell of the snow. The full moon also cast its light over the pale landscape. Was he buried in the snow? It was a terrible thought.

Blue Bird found a depression and scrabbling marks that showed Wild Horse had fallen from the rocks above. There were tracks which she followed along the floor of the canyon: tracks which stopped at the edge of the frozen river. But imprints on the snowy ice showed that Wild Horse had crossed it, or at least tried to.

Blue Bird fell to her knees, her breath quickening and sending white puffs into the cold air. ‘Please, Spirits, don’t let him be drowned. Don’t let him be frozen to death,’ she whispered. ‘Wild Horse,’ she called out, not very loud at first, but then louder and louder. ‘Wild Horse, can you hear me?’ She waited for a sound, any sound, to tear through the hushed veil that hung in the air left empty by her cry.

Nothing. She started to cross the frozen river, following his tracks from rock to rock. When she got halfway across she could see the wide stretch of broken ice on the far side and she clutched at the rock, scraping her fingers but not feeling the pain.

‘Wild Horse!’ she screamed into the snowy silence, not knowing that she could scream that loud. She tried to blur the image that flashed into her mind, of Wild Horse dissolving into the ice.

‘Wild Horse!’

‘Blue Bird . . . ?’

A faint call. She couldn’t believe it. All her nerves jangled. She couldn’t see anybody. Had she imagined it? Had she wanted to hear that voice so much that it had bled into her ears?

But she had to believe she had heard it.

‘Wild Horse, where are you? I’m coming to you.’

‘No, you mustn’t.’ A figure slowly pulled itself from under some bushes. ‘The water is deeper on this side and the ice is thinner.’

‘What happened?’

‘There were deer. I was trying to cross. A wolf . . . the ice cracked . . . I ended up in the water with the wolf.’

Blue Bird heard the rapid click-clack of his teeth, saw how his body trembled. Why didn’t he stand up?

‘Where’s the wolf now? Are you hurt?’

‘The wolf is dead, but so are my legs. I see them, but I do not feel them. I can’t walk, Blue Bird.’ Wild Horse raised himself against a rock, but he fell to the ground as he tried to stand. ‘I can’t get back across like this. You must return to the shelter before night comes, and with it even more cold. Leave me here.’

‘I’m not leaving you,’ said Blue Bird. ‘You have strong shoulders, son of Bear Face. Use them. Pull yourself along, slither like a snake.’

‘The ice will break.’

‘Not if you spread your weight, if you slide along the ground away from the cracks. It looks safe to cross up there.’ She pointed to a place only a short distance away from him. ‘You can’t stay out here, Wild Horse. You’ll freeze to death. This is your only chance.’

He set off slowly, then stopped. ‘It pains too much. Do as I say, and go back to the shelter.’

‘I’ve had enough of doing as you say. I got the firewood. Now I’m coming to get you.’ She moved to step off the rock.

‘Stop,’ murmured Wild Horse. ‘Stay there. I’ll come to you.’

Blue Bird watched him slip down the bank and slowly writhe across the frozen river. His contorted face showed Blue Bird the pain gnawing at him. She sprawled out on the rock, arms outstretched, muttering encouragement, her teeth chattering like his.

At last she clasped one of his hands and dragged him on to the rock. She didn’t mention the dried blood scoring a line from the side of his chin down his neck as she curled her body round his to ease his shivers.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We need to get back.’

Wild Horse groaned. ‘Let me rest.’ His eyes kept closing.

‘It’s not safe to rest here. We must get to the land.’

‘I can’t move any more. I must sleep.’ He laid his head against Blue Bird.

She looked up to the sky. A star was flickering. ‘You can move, Wild Horse,’ she said. ‘Do it for Tall Tree. His spirit is up there willing you to live. I see his star. He didn’t die so that you should give up. You must keep going.’

Wild Horse opened his eyes. ‘Where are you, Tall Tree?’

‘See,’ she pointed. ‘There is Tall Tree. He is with you.’

Wild Horse jerked his head as if to wake himself, then he lurched forwards using his elbows.

Blue Bird looked up to the star and whispered, ‘Thank you.’

When they reached land she pulled up his leggings and rubbed his legs gently. He screeched like a bird caught in a trap.

‘Sorry, I need to get some life back into them.’

‘You sound like my mother.’

‘Then be a good boy and take the healing.’

‘I’ll take the healing as a hunter, not a boy.’

‘If you’re a hunter, why put yourself in such danger when you’re on your own?’

‘Hunters take risks.’

‘And work together, to share the risks.’

‘I had to go hunting, while you collected firewood.’

‘We were in a place unknown to either of us, surrounded by bad weather. We should have collected firewood together and hunted together.’

Wild Horse said, ‘But you’re a girl.’

‘Yes!’ Blue Bird yelped. ‘And as I’ve tried to tell you, I’m also a hunter.’ She didn’t give him time to speak. ‘And if there is no big prey it is better to kill something small than have nothing to eat. I realise it’s not worthy enough for you, but I’ve left a rabbit that I caught, cooking on the fire that I built, with the firewood I collected.’

It sounded more boastful than she had intended.

Wild Horse looked down, said nothing.

‘And the meat will be dry and chewy by the time we get back.’ She rubbed his legs, harder, causing him to wince. ‘You have bad frostbite. I once saw my aunt treat it. If you think your legs are painful now, it will be worse tomorrow. I’ll wrap my legs round yours to bring some warmth to them. But we must set off soon.’

His body tensed as she curled around him, but Wild Horse was too weak to argue. Blue Bird saw how the snow-covered top of the canyon gleamed with frost under the clear night sky, felt the cold nip her fingers and ears. They couldn’t stay exposed for long. She had to get Wild Horse back to the fire – to get proper warmth into his legs, or they might stay numb for ever.

Wild Horse leant on Blue Bird as they set off, stumbling a few steps before falling. The ground was freezing hard and slippery, making it even more difficult for him, so he slid along on his backside rather than try to walk. It was very late by the time they arrived at the shelter.

Blue Bird let Wild Horse keep his breechcloth, but insisted that he take off his wet moccasins, leggings and tunic, so that they could dry out by the fire. There were deep gashes round one of his ankles.

‘You didn’t say you’d been wounded there as well,’ she said.

‘My legs are so numb I didn’t know. The wolf must have bitten me when we were under the water. What do you mean – as well?’

‘This.’ She pointed to his chin.

‘I forgot about that.’

Blue Bird gently applied Sacred Cloud’s balm to all the wounds before wrapping the camel skin round Wild Horse’s shivering body. He hugged it tightly around him as he ate, and sat close to the flames. They ate most of the rabbit, ignoring its dryness, leaving a little for the next sunrise. Blue Bird gave Paska some before she wrapped up the remains of the meat and put it at the back of the shelter.

‘What are your thoughts, son of Bear Face?’

‘The wolf, lost on the riverbed. To kill a beast and then not get a chance to eat it, such a waste.’

‘There will be other creatures who feed on the carcass. Any remains will be delivered back to the land. It will not be wasted.’

‘I know, but I hunger for such meat. And my spears. I lost my spears.’

‘You hunters and your spears.’ She grinned. ‘Be glad I took Tall Tree’s.’

‘See, I was right. You don’t count yourself as a hunter. You said “you hunters”, as if I am a hunter, but you are not. What are you?’

‘I am a girl who can hunt. I can also build fires, pick the best berries, dig up the finest roots, find the right leaf to ease a sore wound.’

‘Is there anything you can’t do?’

‘I can’t please my father because he wanted me to be a son. And I can’t make my mother proud because she died when I was born.’

‘I think Mogoll and your mother would both be proud of you if they knew you came looking for me. You were very brave.’

‘Of course I came looking for you. What else would I do?’

‘I thought you’d wait here where it’s dry and safe. You left Paska and the cub, not knowing if you’d find me.’

Blue Bird shook her head. ‘You still don’t know me very well.’

Poor Wild Horse, she thought. You also don’t know what suffering lies ahead of you.

She remembered helping Sacred Cloud with a young hunter whose foot had been trapped in a frozen water-hole. He had suffered much pain. Wild Horse had survived the wolf attack, but now there was the night to get through. The throbbing in his legs would grip him fiercely, and a fever would come and shake his whole body. She looked into the fire, watched the flames flicker, heard the twigs crackle and spit.

I’ll build up the fire, make sure it lasts through the night,’ she said. ‘You must keep warm.’

When the fever did arrive, Wild Horse quivered, shaking off his camel skin, calling out with confusion as it took hold.

‘Tall Tree,’ he wailed. ‘Where are you? Show me your star.’

‘He’s with you,’ Blue Bird said as she fed him sips of water, dabbed his forehead with droplets. And she made sure the fire didn’t die down. All night she tended to him, hardly getting any sleep. She moved Paska, already wrapped round the cub, behind Wild Horse, so that he had warmth from both front and back.

As morning light crept into the shelter Wild Horse fell into a deep sleep and was still at last. Blue Bird hoped the worst of the fever had passed but she knew that when he woke again he would be very weak and in pain – not that he’d admit it to her.

She played with the cub till it grew sleepy, then placed its curled-up body next to Wild Horse. They could keep each other warm while she and Paska hunted and collected more wood. It would take a few sunrises for Wild Horse to regain his strength, and they couldn’t travel far with so much snow on the ground, so she had to find food for them all.

Outside, clouds chased each other across the blue sky and wisps of hair drifted across her face. It wasn’t the icy blast of the past few days; a thaw was starting. Blue Bird praised the Spirits for chasing away the eagle-spirit that opened its wings to bring snow, then she began to look for any signs of prey. A crashing sound behind made her swirl round, ready to attack whatever it was, whoever it was.

Zuni?

But it was a chunk of melting snow falling off a ledge.

The sudden thought of Zuni shocked Blue Bird; he still lurked at the back of her mind. She shut her eyes to be rid of him and replaced him with a picture of her mother. She’d never seen her mother, but Sacred Cloud had described her so that Blue Bird could see her in her head, and her mother had a softer rounder face than her sister, with the same green-brown eyes as Blue Bird.

Sacred Cloud had told Blue Bird that her mother made the best pemmican, instinctively knowing what mix of meat and berries would taste the best, would store for the longest. She’d said that the land they travelled as children had the sweetest berries. It had different trees. There were more rivers and lakes, fewer mountains and hills. The tribes travelled shorter distances, and knew each other.

When Blue Bird had asked her aunt why they had never returned, Sacred Cloud said that Mogoll preferred to roam the edges of the Great Plains, with its surrounding forests and river canyons, where there were more bison and mammoth. But Sacred Cloud thought the real reason was that, having lost his wife in childbirth and with no surviving son, Mogoll must have felt that the Spirits were punishing him for taking his wife away from that place.

‘Spirits, don’t punish me for being the daughter of Mogoll,’ Blue Bird whispered into the breeze. ‘Please help me find the home my mother had to leave.’